


while it lasts

by regardinglove



Series: WIL!Verse [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Coach Katsuki Yuuri, First Dates, First Kiss, Fluff, Happy Ending, King Victor Nikiforov, M/M, Modern Royalty, POV Victor Nikiforov, Past Christophe Giacometti/Victor Nikiforov, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2019-01-07 12:04:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12232464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/regardinglove/pseuds/regardinglove
Summary: King Victor expected a few things from his diplomatic visit to Hasetsu: to experience a full immersion into the culture, to learn more about their people, and to build a meaningful connection between Japan and his kingdom.He did not, however, expect Yuuri Katsuki.And if he has to enlist the help of his young charge to build a meaningful connection with Yuuri, well, that's just the prerogative of a king.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lily_winterwood](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lily_winterwood/gifts).



> Ask for modern royals and you shall receive! Thank you for being one of the main forces for putting this project together, Lily! I hope you enjoy this fic and can find a little bit of happiness from it :)
> 
> Note: 
> 
> There will be a part two! It's already in the works, I just need to finish it, get it beta'd and then post it. If all goes well, I'll have the second part up by the end of October at the latest. 
> 
> Enjoy!

_**KING VICTOR NIKIFOROV OF GLACIA SET TO VISIT HASETSU** _

By Yuki Noro

Hasetsu is getting a bit more royal. As part of Glacia’s efforts to form a political bond with Japan, King Victor Nikiforov and his charge, Yuri Plisetsky, will visit Hasetsu for a week-long immersion experience. During their stay they will learn about the town, visit schools, and volunteer in various community centers. Their first stop is at Ice Castle Hasetsu on Monday, where they will volunteer and interact with the local public.

Hasetsu is the last leg of King Victor’s month-long journey across the country. His previous visits have been in Tokyo, Niigata, and Kobe, respectively. After his stay in Hasetsu, King Victor and his charge will return to Glacia and prepare for the World Leaders Conference, where an official alliance could be formed.

In a statement to _Tokyo Times,_ King Victor said the following:

_Glacia is still a fledgling country. We broke off from Russia only fifty years ago and have been struggling to establish ourself on the world stage ever since. My father, rest his soul, always wanted to branch out and connect with other countries. It is my duty to fulfill his wishes. I hope that building connections with a country as vast and beautiful as Japan will benefit both of our nations._

King Nikiforov and his charge are set to arrive in Hasetsu Saturday morning and depart the following Saturday night.

* * *

Hasetsu is everything and nothing like Victor imagined it would be.

In some ways, it’s exactly what he expected. The town is indeed tiny, barely big enough to be recognized on a map. Cell signal is weak in most areas, a fact that has had Yuri grumbling ever since they set foot into Hasetsu, and there are almost no cars on the road, everyone opting for bicycles or walking instead. It’s what Victor anticipated, coming into a town known for its peaceful nature.

But what he wasn’t expecting is how _gorgeous_ it is.

Looking out over the town from his hotel room’s balcony, his eyes catch on the water glinting in the light. The sun is beginning to set, casting everything in a pastel pink glow, a perfect compliment for the cherry blossom trees lined along the walkways. Wind blows in from the ocean and fills the room with the scent of brine, and when he listens closely, he can hear the faint hum of music, drifting to him from the restaurant across the street.

It’s so peaceful, ethereal. A comforting reminder of home.

At least, Victor thinks so. Yuri, on the other hand, is another story entirely.

“Ugh, this place is _boring_. If I wanted crappy cell service and nothing to do I would’ve stayed in Glacia.”

Victor steadies himself against the balcony rail and turns on his heel. Yuri has draped himself over the chaise lounge, looking a mess with his hoodie tied around his waist and his blond hair drooping into his eyes. His fingers fly across his phone keyboard — texting, no doubt — while he raises his leg in the air, flexing his foot back and forth in a rhythmic motion.

“We’ve been here for a day,” Victor notes as he wanders back into the hotel room, closing the balcony doors behind him. He takes a seat on the edge of his bed and reaches down to untie the tightly wound laces of his boots, then haphazardly kicks them off. Relief flows through him at the sensation of freedom, then he falls back against the bed and rolls to his side so he can look at his charge properly. “Tomorrow will be more exciting.”

“Yeah, right. What’s so exciting about an _ice rink_?” Yuri practically spits. He rests his phone against his chest and points a finger at Victor. “Nothing, that’s what.”

“What are you talking about? You used to love skating as a kid,” Victor counters, bringing his index finger up to his chin as he thinks. “You would go to the rink with — _oh._ ”

Yuri’s fingers still at the same time Victor catches himself. It’s only a brief moment, a blip in time, really, but Victor sees the flash of pain that crosses Yuri’s face. His eyes tighten, just enough to be noticeable. His leg, still lifted in the air, makes a slow descent back to the chair. His breath hitches, once, before evening out again, as if nothing happened at all.

So much pain, hidden behind his biting words and permanent scowl.

“I’m sorry. I...didn’t mean to remind you of him,” Victor whispers.

Yuri grunts once before letting his phone drop onto his chest. He pushes up into a sitting position and glares out the window as he says, “I’m not a child anymore. You don’t need to protect me. I can handle it.”

Victor nods slowly and gets up from his spot on the bed. He wanders over to Yuri’s side and slowly, cautiously, lays a hand on his shoulder. When Yuri doesn’t immediately shrug it off, Victor takes it for the olive branch it is and takes a seat in the adjacent chair.

It’s hard, thinking about Nikolai. He was his father’s most trusted advisor, the one whom his father went to for every major decision. A tiny, fleeting smile passing over his lips as he recalls a younger version of himself, running behind Nikolai and his father as they wandered through the gardens. He wasn’t just another advisor to his father. He was his best friend. His family.

Losing him was one of the toughest things he’s ever been though. He can only imagine what it was like for Yuri.

“What happened to your grandfather…”

“You don’t need to talk about it,” Yuri mutters under his breath, eyes still diverted. “This affects you too.”

Victor sucks in a breath and closes his eyes. Yuri isn’t wrong. The plane crash that took Nikolai Plisetsky’s life also claimed the soul of one King Alexei Nikiforov, a tragedy that left a nation rattled and two boys forever changed. Victor was eighteen, and suddenly had a nation to rule on his shoulders. Yuri was six, and suddenly found himself under Victor’s guardianship.

From a prince with no cares to a king with a charge, all within the course of a year.

Forever changed, indeed.

“Victor?” Yuri asks when he doesn’t respond.

Victor shakes his head, pulling himself back, and removes the hand that’s still resting against Yuri’s shoulder. He laughs once and brushes a stray piece of hair from his eyes before saying, “I want to talk about it. It helps me remember both of them.”

“Then talk,” Yuri says with a shrug. He stretches his limbs and tries to hide a yawn, but it escapes anyway, loud enough to echo throughout the cavernous hotel room.

Victor smiles and gets up from his chair. He grabs his suitcase from the ground and hoists it up onto the bed, rummaging through it for his favorite t-shirt (a NASA t-shirt he received on a visit to America a few years ago) and a pair of pajama pants. “Later,” he says. “We have a big day tomorrow. Better rest up if we’re going to be our best. Right Yu—”

A quiet snore rings out from behind him, and when Victor turns he finds Yuri curled up on the chaise lounge, knees up to his chest, loosely clutching his phone.

He just laughs under his breath and shakes his head. “Night, Yura. Sleep well.”

* * *

The following morning comes much too early. At the crack of dawn, Victor hears his phone blaring from where he left it across the room, and he groans as he pushes out of bed and wanders towards it. One look at the caller ID and he already knows what to expect.

Victor groans and answers it with a bleary, “Hello?”

“ _Victor!”_ Yakov practically yells. _“Don’t tell me you are still sleeping! You and Yuri are scheduled to be at Ice Castle in an hour!”_

“I know,” Victor mumbles, wiping the sleep from his eyes. “Send Mila and Georgi up in half an hour. We’ll be ready to go then.”

 _“Yes, Your Majesty,”_ Yakov says in exaggerated voice, then hangs up before Victor can retort.

He glances down at his phone and grumbles. Yakov may be his advisor, but sometimes he feels more like a nagging parent than anything else.

It doesn’t take long for Victor to pull himself together. He flips on the light (which earns him a string of Russian cursing from Yuri) and pulls out one of his more casual suits for the occasion, then goes about his daily routine: shower, shave, brush teeth, muss hair until it’s just the way he likes it. He pulls on his suit and lays his hand flat against the fabric, checking for wrinkles, then slides on a pair of freshly shined shoes before declaring himself ready to go.

Yuri just looks at himself in the mirror and brushes his teeth, not bothering to change out of his clothes from yesterday.

_Teenagers._

He doesn’t get to berate Yuri for his lack of effort before Mila and Georgi show up at their door. They’re quite a pair, his head of security and her right hand man. They guide Victor and Yuri towards their car, chatting about the weather and local cuisine while casually eyeing anyone in sight, at the ready to grab their concealed firearms if necessary.

Before he knows it, Ice Castle is before him. It’s rather ordinary, upon first glance. The steps leading up to the building are cracked concrete, and the outside could use a paint job. When they walk inside, it’s more of the same: worn down floors, scratched wooden benches, TVs that could easily be from the 90s. Tired and well-used.

But there’s something in the air that entices Victor, draws him in. It’s palpable, unexplainable, a feeling like something big is coming.

He loves it.

After some talk with one of the workers, Victor and his team are led into the far-right rink. The temperature difference when they enter is enough to make him shiver through his jacket, cold seeping into his bones.

“Figure skating is a huge sport in Japan right now,” their guide, a broad man who goes by Nishigori, points out. He gestures around at the ice, a few feet away, and the bleachers stacked along the far left wall. “This place is tiny, but mighty. We had an event here just a few weeks ago that sold out within a day.”

“Impressive. What was the event?”

Nishigori laughs and crosses his arms over his chest. “We called it _Onsen on Ice_. The rink’s owner challenged my wife to a skate-off one drunken night and it led to a whole event. Best money we ever made.”

Victor laughs quietly and shakes his head. “I can imagine. And will I be meeting this owner?”

“He should be here by now...ah! There he is.” Nishigori points towards the main entrance where a man is approaching. “Hey, Yuuri! Come meet our guests!”

The man comes out from the shadows and... _oh_. He’s beautiful. Yuuri’s dark hair is a bit on the long side, bangs falling into his eyes. He brushes them back and reveals his amber eyes, glowing behind a pair of blue-rimmed glasses. A cautious, but polite smile graces his lips when he approaches Victor and his team, followed by the most pleasant voice Victor has ever heard.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty.”

Victor startles at that — Your Majesty...it’s so _formal_ , so unlike the butterflies that are pounding away in his gut.

“Please,” he says with a slight bow, “call me Victor.”

Yuuri laughs—high pitched, soft, _lovely_. “Okay, Victor. Nice to meet you.”

“And I you, Yuuri…,”

“Katsuki. Yuuri Katsuki.”

 _Yuuri Katsuki._ What a name.

Victor opens his mouth to reply, but he’s too busy being completely entranced with Yuuri’s eyes. They’re practically sparkling against the fluorescent light, like the jewels that adorn his crown back in Glacia. He could spend all day looking into them.

Maybe he will, if he gets his way.

His fixation is interrupted when Yuri kicks him from behind and mutters, “Care to introduce the rest of us, asshole?”

Victor blinks once and smiles softly. “Of course,” he says, reaching back to pull Yuri into an awkward side hug. “This is my charge, Yuri Plisetsky. He’ll be working with me this week. Mila Babicheva and Georgi Popovich are our security detail, and that,” Victor points through the window at a disgruntled Yakov, muttering into his phone a few feet away, “is my trusted advisor, Yakov Feltsman. They have all been accompanying me throughout my travels.”

“Nice to meet you all,” Yuuri says. He takes a few steps back until he’s standing by Nishigori’s side, arms almost touching. “Nishigori is the rink’s manager and will be helping out today. We have two groups that will be coming in later for a meet-and-greet skate, but first…” Yuuri reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a folded, mile-long list, “we uh, have a few projects that we’d love some help on, if you’re willing, that is.”

He flips it around for everyone to see and Victor blanches at what he reads. Some of the items are crossed off, but there’s still a plethora that aren’t: painting and filing and boot-shining to name a few. Many of them have red dashes next to them, with the words _‘Not Enough Funds’_ written in chicken scratch handwriting.

“Unless that’s not...uh...something you do!” Yuuri interjects when Victor doesn’t immediately respond. “I just thought if you wanted a whole immersion experience this would be part of it but I also get if you aren’t into hard labor and I’m sorry if I offended you and—”

“Yuuri, no! This is….great,” Victor replies. “I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty, and neither is my charge. Right, Yura?”

“Yeah, whatever,” he says under his breath.

Victor smiles down at him before turning his gaze back to Yuuri. “Put us to work wherever you need us. We’d be happy to help.”

The look of relief that crosses Yuuri’s face is enough to make Victor’s heart flutter. “Okay, uh, great!” he chimes. “Then let’s go.”

The morning is a quiet affair. Yuri, Yakov, and Georgi split off from the group to work on a project with Nishigori, while Victor and Mila trail Yuuri around the rink, helping out with odd-jobs and learning about the history of Ice Castle. The way Yuuri talks about the rink is beautiful; it’s like he’s weaving a story for them, voice rising and falling in pitch, face lighting up when he mentions a fact he’s excited about. Victor finds himself entranced by the tale, entranced by _Yuuri_ , to the point where Mila has to clear her throat to snap Victor out of his wistful staring more times than he can count.

“And this is where...uh...is everything okay?” Yuuri asks.

“Hm? What?” Victor says, grimacing when Mila lightly nudges him with her elbow.

“You were staring. Is there something on my face?”

“Oh uh, no. I was just...just...uh…really entranced by….you...er...your...?”

“What Victor is trying to say is that you’re quite the storyteller, Mr. Katsuki,” Mila helpfully chimes in, throwing him a side glare. “Right, Victor?”

“Oh, right,” Victor says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Do you have any other stories for us, Yuuri?”

“Well, there was the time we made national news back in 2011…”

They continue on like that through the early afternoon, Yuuri telling stories, Victor getting caught up in them. He listens as they clean windows, shine boots, file paperwork. He’s convinced he could write a book about this rink, talk about it for days on end.

Which is why when they convene in the afternoon, Victor’s questions are a bit...altered.

“And what about you, Yuuri?” Victor asks as he flips through a box of haphazard files. They’re sitting in Ice Castle’s archive room, trying to sort through the piles of news articles and documents while the others take a lunch break.

Yuuri glances up from the file folders he’s looking at and squints. “What about me?”

“You’ve been talking about Ice Castle all day, but I know nothing about you,” he says with a shrug. “Is it wrong that I’m curious?”

“Well...no. But —”

“But what?”

“— _you_ haven’t really talked about yourself either,” Yuuri replies with a laugh.

Victor hums under his breath and ducks his head. “Ah, I guess that’s true, but I have an overly-detailed Wikipedia page. You, on the other hand, do not.” Victor folds his hands in front of him and quirks an eyebrow. “Do you?”

He expects Yuuri to laugh it off, agree and blush like he’s been doing all morning. What he doesn’t expect is for Yuuri to go quiet, cast his eyes down to his work as he says in a deadpan voice, “Actually, I do.”

“Excuse me?”

“I have a Wikipedia page,” Yuuri says, redness coloring his neck and ears. “Back before I took over for the rink, I...uh...skated. Competitively.”

Victor’s fingers still over the archive files and he glances up, taken aback. “Really?”

“Yeah, up until two years ago when I retired at least. Is that...surprising to you?”

“I guess not,” Victor notes as he picks up a file labeled “2013-2014 Press”. “I knew you skated, Nishigori said so, but he didn’t mention you were competitive.” He pauses, thinks, then says, “Were you good?”

Yuuri hums under his breath and turns back to his own files. “I did fine, I guess. Skaters are a dime-a-dozen in Japan, so I was just one in a mil — Victor, where did you find that?”

Victor hears Yuuri’s question, but when he opens his mouth to answer, no sound comes out. He’s too transfixed on the news clippings that spilled into his lap, Yuuri’s face popping out from the sea of black and white. The first one he finds is of Yuuri on a podium, gold medal clutched between his fingers. The next is of Yuuri kneeling on the ice, hair back, eyes closed, smile gleaming. But the one that catches his attention, leaves him gaping, is _this_ one.

In Victor’s hands is a picture of Yuuri at the 2014 World Championships, according to the top corner notation. He’s standing with two other skaters at his side, arms slung around each other while their respective flags fly above their heads. There are no medals, but Victor knows Yuuri won gold; he can see it in his face, lit up with excitement.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’re a World Champion?” Victor asks.

Yuuri rubs the back of his neck and pulls his lips up into a tiny smile. “I didn’t think it was important, that’s all.”

“Not...not important? Oh Yuuri,” Victor tsks under his breath, “Everything about you is important. ”

Yuuri doesn’t respond to that, just laughs once and ducks his head before returning to his work. Victor follows, letting his gaze linger on Yuuri’s form for a second longer than necessary before turning towards the next box of archives.

They work together in a comfortable quiet for another hour, too caught up in their own work to make conversation. Yuuri scratches notes into a well-worn moleskine while Victor continues to organize news clippings by date, mind wandering back to that first picture he saw of Yuuri with his gold medal.

What did he look like, out on that ice? Victor imagines he’d be elegant, beautiful. The audience would go wild just seeing him there, would screech their praises and yell Yuuri’s name until their throats were raw.

(It’s a lovely image, one he wishes to hold onto.)

He’ll have to look up Youtube videos later, he decides. Watch Yuuri in his natural element.

Unless…he can watch him right here, right now.

Victor pushes the box he’s working on away and gets up from his chair.

Yuuri glances up in confusion and puts down his own work before he asks, “Victor? What’s wron —”

“Will you skate with me, Yuuri?”

“I...er...what?”

“Will you...skate with me?” Victor asks again, voice trailing off. “I want to see what you can do, and I’ve rarely been on the ice myself.”

“You want to go skating. With me,” Yuuri says, narrowing his eyes.

Victor only nods.

 

Yuuri closes his eyes and lets out a quiet laugh. “I’d love that.”

“You would?”

“I would,” Yuuri says, firmer this time. He glances up at Victor and flashes the brightest, widest smile he’s seen in ages. “How about now?”

“Now?” Victor parrots.

“Yeah, now,” Yuuri says. He rubs the back of his neck and shrugs a little. “Why not? We did more work than I’ve done in months. I say we deserve a little break. Besides, we only have today, right? Might as well make the most of it.”

Victor ignores the pang that runs through him at Yuuri’s reminder of _only today_ and instead smiles back. “Well, then lead the way, Mr. Katsuki.”

Yuuri smirks back. “It would be my pleasure.”

After writing down where they left off in their respective boxes, Yuuri leads Victor out the door and through a series of back hallways. They pass the reception desk on the way and pick up a pair of rental skates, then make their way through a set of glass doors and into the rink.

Like before, the cold hits Victor like a freight train. It rips through him and makes his whole body quiver, enough that it draws a raised eyebrow from Yuuri.

“Cold?” he asks. When Victor nods in response, he laughs under his breath and shrugs out of his zip-up hoodie, holding it out to Victor. “You’ll be warmer if you wear this,” he says. “Trust me.”

“But what about you?” Victor gestures to the long-sleeve t-shirt he’s wearing. “That’s hardly warm enough.”

Yuuri just shrugs and smiles softly. “I’m used to it. You, clearly, are not.” He waves his hand at the jacket and says, “Please, put it on. I’ll feel better if you do.”

Victor lets the garment dangle for a second before reluctantly grabbing it from Yuuri. He shrugs out of his own jacket and drapes it over a nearby railing before pulling on the hoodie. It’s tight, but comfy. It fills him with warmth and absorbs the cold from his bones, enough that the shivering from earlier subsides completely. But the best part is that it smells like Yuuri, a mixture of mint and linen.

After giving Victor his hoodie, Yuuri grabs a duffle bag from under the bleachers and pulls out a pair of skates that are way nicer than Victor’s rentals, then silently sits down on a nearby bench and pulls them on. Taking the cue, Victor does the same, replacing his shoes with skates and lacing them up accordingly before waddling onto the ice.

“How long has it been since you last skated?” Yuuri asks as he takes the ice himself.

“Ages,” Victor responds. He plays with the zipper on the hoodie and drags his toe pick against the ice, making an infinity symbol with it. “Not since I was a child.”

Yuuri hums at that and skates towards the middle of the ice. He turns in a circle and crosses his arms over his middle, then says, “Then we’ll start easy. Skate to me.”

“Skate to you? Is that all?” Victor says with a smirk.

“...Yes? Too easy?”

“Yuuri,” Victor practically purrs as he takes a step forward, “I can do a lot more than tha — ah!”

Before he can catch himself, Victor finds himself hitting the ice, hard. He rolls onto his back until he’s glancing up at the fluorescents and groans under his breath.

“Ow,” Victor mutters. “That hurt.”

He hears the quiet swishing of blades on ice mixing in with Yuuri’s quiet laughter. “Not as easy as it looks, hm?” Yuuri asks as he holds out a hand for Victor to take.

Victor blushes and grabs on, allowing Yuuri to hoist him off the ice and back into a standing position. “No, it’s not,” Victor agrees. He brushes off flecks of ice from his now-wet pants and sighs. “I’m not as practiced as I thought.”

Yuuri nods in agreement and glances at the ice. “I...uh...guess I’ll have to show you how it’s done then.” Hesitantly, Yuuri offers his other hand and glances up at Victor. “If you want?”

Victor doesn’t even hesitate. He grabs Yuuri’s other hand, revels in the firm grip and warmth it provides, and says, “Of course.”

He doesn’t know how long they skate for. Yuuri guides them around the rink in circles, never letting go of Victor’s hands. It’s like time doesn’t exist when they’re around each other, so lost in the other’s words that hours go by without notice. Yuuri finally talks about himself, describing what it was like to grow up in Hasetsu, his family’s onsen, the long-gone days of competitive skating and the friends he made there. And Victor discusses his own life in return, opening up about life as a young prince turned king, his undying love for Makkachin, the pressures of being in the public eye.

It’s refreshing, wonderful, being with Yuuri in this way. With only Mila around to watch over them, every word feels incredibly intimate, a luxury in his line of work. It’s rare that there isn’t someone by his side, be it Yakov or Mila or Georgi. Private conversations are almost impossible, which is why he wants to cling to this moment as long as he can, make this moment he’s carved out with Yuuri last.

Which is impossible, he finds out soon enough.

“Hey! Care if we join in?” Nishigori calls out from the side of the rink, flanked by Yuri, Georgi, Yakov, and three wide-eyed children he doesn’t recognize.

Yuuri lets go of him for the first time in hours. Victor has to hold back the disappointed whine that rises to his lips.

“Of course not,” Yuuri replies, gesturing to the ice around them. “The more the merrier, right?” He turns to Victor for confirmation.

 _No_ , Victor thinks. He wants Yuuri to himself, wants to revel in this freedom he’s feeling for the first time in years. He wants to be alone with Yuuri, listen to him talk for hours, learn about his favorite foods and bands and books until the rink closes.

But he doesn’t voice any of that. Instead, he plasters on a gleaming smile and says, “Right. The more the merrier.”

The three girls (which he’ll later learn are Nishigori’s daughters) giggle in delight as they take the ice, egging on the rest to join them. Nishigori follows after them first, followed by Mila, Georgi, and even Yakov. Yuri, however, remains on the outskirts, looking out at everyone else with a sour expression on his face.

“Yura?” Victor asks as he glides over to the rink’s edge. “Are you okay?”

Yuri ducks his head and mumbles, “This place reminds me of Gramps.” He plops his elbows up on the concrete barrier between them and rests his chin in his palm. “That’s all.”

Victor smiles softly and leans in closer to Yuri. “I know, it’s hard remembering those that we’ve lost, but we must. We owe it to them to keep their memory alive.” He skates backwards a bit, being careful not to crash to the ground, then offers his hand. “Please, skate with us? To remember Nikolai?”

At first, Victor’s positive Yuri will refuse, close off like he’s done so many times before, but by some tiny miracle, Yuri cautiously, carefully, steps onto the ice.

Time files after that. Victor follows Yuri from behind, making sure that he doesn’t stumble or fall like he did earlier. But there’s no need for worry; Yuri’s a natural, taking to the ice like a fish takes to water. He moves at a lightning pace, skating circles around the rest of them over and over again. Yuuri notices after the fifth lap and pulls Yuri aside. The next thing Victor knows, Yuri is following Yuuri around the rink, watching like a hawk as Yuuri shows him the ins and outs of a rather complex looking step sequence. It’s amazing, watching the two of them interact. In all the years he’s been Yuri’s guardian, he’s barely seen his charge crack a smile. But when he nails Yuuri’s step sequence after a handful of tries, the grin that spreads across his face is the brightest Victor has ever seen on him.

Everything about this day is incredible, impossible, _infinite_. He doesn’t want it to end.

But it must.

“Not to break up the party, but it’s time to go,” Nishigori says hours later. The triplets are curled up on the nearby bench, eyes fluttering shut with exhaustion. It’s only then that Victor looks out the rink doors and sees darkness blanketed over the lobby, lights long turned off and doors locked.

“Oh, is it closing time already?” Yuuri asks from across the rink. He rubs the back of his neck and says, “Time flies, huh?”

 _Like you wouldn’t believe_ , Victor thinks to himself.

“We should get back to the hotel too,” Yakov mutters next to him. “We have an early meet-and-greet at the primary school, after all.”

Victor knows this. His agenda for the week has been drilled into his head over and over again. Meet-and-greet tomorrow, volunteering at a local shelter on Wednesday, meetings with Hasetu’s government on Thursday, with Friday off for community exploration before their departure on Saturday. Which makes the pang in his chest that much tighter; leaving this rink, the camaraderie he’s found over the past day, is wrenching. How long has it been since he’s felt this way? Has he ever?

Can he let it go?

But instead of voicing any of this, Victor nods towards Yakov. “Of course. I’ll meet you all outside after I have a quick word with Yuuri.”

Yakov grunts in affirmation and grumbles at the others to head out. They all leave the ice in a single file, grab their shoes from the benches, then make their way out of the rink, whispering to each other as they walk.

“I had fun today,” Victor says once they’re alone. He leans back against the rink’s barrier and digs his toepick into the ice, flicking a stray piece of hair from his eyes.

“Yeah, me too,” Yuuri comments as he skates over to him. Nishigori dimmed the fluorescents when he left and now the rink is covered in a buttery glow, one that casts Yuuri in a beautiful light. Honestly, it’s unfair how gorgeous he looks right now, with his hair tousled from a day of hard work and his glasses slightly askew on the bridge of his nose. He leans up next to Victor and places his elbows on the barrier, glancing out at the deserted rink. “It was fun, being out here with everyone, and it was fun to teach Yuri too.” He smiles down at his feet. “I’m usually doing behind-the-scenes work these days, keeping up the paperwork and running the rink. It’s been so long since I’ve coached someone. I forgot how much I miss it.”

Victor looks over and feels a pang run through him. Yuuri looks so peaceful in that moment, content, but also resigned. He’s hunched into himself, hands in his pockets, shoulders pushed forward, hair falling into his eyes. His smile is timid, not at all like the wide, gleaming one that he saw earlier.

It’s terrible. Yuuri deserves to always be free, not reduced to desk work and meetings. His love for the ice is clearer than day, his passion overwhelming.

He deserves to let that shine daily, not just once in a blue moon.

In that moment, Victor makes a decision. A reckless, wonderful, _terrifying_ one that will surely come back to bite him in the ass later.

“Can you teach Yuri to skate?” Victor blurts out.

Yuuri raises an eyebrow at that. “Yuri?”

“Er….yes! Yuri! Today’s the first time I’ve seen him laugh in months. I think this would be good for him...that is, if you’re free? Or if you even have time? I know you’re busy and I don’t want to barge in and you can say no—”

“Victor!” Yuuri interrupts with his hands raised. “Come by tomorrow after your school visit.”

He pauses, takes a few steps backwards. “Really?”

Yuuri nods. “Of course. He’s a little rough around the edges, but I had fun today. I can’t make him a world champion in a week’s time, but I can give him a few pointers, set him on a path if he wants.” He extends his hand, an offering. “Let’s just enjoy it while it lasts, huh?”

Victor cringes at those words, hating the reminder that this overwhelming happiness he feels right now can only last so long. But he doesn’t comment. Instead, he reaches forward, takes Yuuri’s hand in his, and says, “Yes, let’s enjoy it while it lasts.”

* * *

“Ugh, I can’t believe you signed me up for this.”

Victor pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers as they follow Georgi and Mila into Ice Castle. “For the last time, I thought you’d like it,” he mutters under his breath. “You looked like you were having fun yesterday.”

“So what if I was?” Yuri shoots back. His hair obscures half of his face, but Victor can still see the seething scowl beneath that curtain of blonde. “I just spent an entire day out. What makes you think I want to waste my night too? Especially with some Japanese pig who stole my name.”

“Actually he would’ve had the name fi—” Victor begins, but immediately clamps up when Yuri shoots him the darkest of looks.

They continue on in silence, stopping by the reception desk to pick up a pair of skates for Yuri before making their way towards Rink Three. Unlike yesterday, people mill around the lobby, talking in low voices as they walk by, raising eyebrows and pulling out their phones. A group of young girls stand by the rink’s doors and request photos, much to the chagrin of Georgi, who hates any social media that isn’t official. But Victor waves him off, pulls Yuri into an awkward hug as they take selfies and plaster on grins, pretending they weren’t fighting only five seconds ago.

When that’s done, they make their way into the rink. Mila and Georgi walk ahead, eyes peeled for the (nonexistent) threats, while Yuri and Victor take their time, walking at a leisurely pace. Music drifts through the tunnel, a soft, sweet melody that sounds like a lullaby. It gets louder the closer they get, and when they turn a corner, Victor stops at his tracks at what he sees.

Yuuri is standing in the middle of the rink with a group of five little girls surrounding him. They’re dressed in glittery shirts and multi colored tutus, singing along to the song is loud, off key voices. Yuuri mouths the lyrics along with them, guiding them through a series of hand motions before leading them in a circle around the rink, waving his arms in the air.

(And Victor _totally_ doesn’t let his eyes drift down to that peek of skin that appears when Yuuri’s shirt rides up. Because he’s a _gentleman_.)

“I’ll be with you in a second!” Yuuri calls as he skates by.

Victor nods in affirmation and leans up against the baseboards. His eyes follow Yuuri across the rink, watching as he kneels down to the girls’ level and speaks to them in a low voice. They giggle and blush at his words and Yuuri giggles back, cheeks reddening while he rubs the back of his neck.

_He’s too cute. I’m going to combust._

“Close your mouth; you’re drooling,” Yuri mutters as he takes a place by Victor’s side. He slaps his sneakers up on the barrier’s ledge and wobbles slightly on his skate-clad feet. “Seriously, you must like this guy a lot to pull off this scheme.”

Victor glances down at him and raises an eyebrow. “What scheme?”

Yuri snorts. “Don’t play dumb! You clearly are using me to get close to _him_.” He pouts and points an accusatory finger towards Yuuri. “It’s so obvious.”

He drags a finger along the bumpy surface of the barrier and ducks his head. Of course Yuri is right, he usually is, but he doesn’t have to know that.

Lucky for Victor, he doesn’t have to come up with a response. Clapping interrupts the quiet of the rink and Victor snaps his head up. The girls are leaving the ice, returning to the waiting arms of their parents on the sidelines while Yuuri skates over with his hands on his hips.

“Sorry about that,” he says as he brushes a stray piece of hair from his eyes. “I’m filling in for Yuuko today and practice ran longer than I thought it would.”

“Practice?” Victor asks.

Yuuri nods his head. “Uh-huh. We host a recital every year, showing off what the kids have learned. It’s a pretty big event. This year’s show is this Saturday, actually.” His teeth bite down on his lower lip and he glances away when he says, “Um...if you’re still in town, I’d love for you to come. And you too, Yuri,” he tacks on.

Victor feels those butterflies pummel his stomach again. “It would be my pleasure,” he says with a wink.

Yuuri gapes in front of him and turns a bright red. Yuri knees Victor in the shin.

“Are we going to skate or not?” he mutters under his breath. “Or are you two gonna make googly-eyes at each other all day?”

Victor turns his attention to his charge and hooks an arm around his shoulders. “Where was that enthusiasm earlier, Yura?” he teases, shaking them both back and forth.

“Ugh, get off me!” Yuri spits as he pushes out from under Victor’s grip. He marches over to the ice and takes it without another word, spinning so he’s facing Yuuri and Victor. “Now let’s go. I’m getting bored.”

Yuuri flicks his gaze between them both and claps his hands together. “Okay, then. Let’s begin.”

As Yuuri guides Yuri to center ice, Victor walks up the stands and takes a seat on one of the metal benches. He leans back onto the heels of his hands and crosses his ankles, brushes the hair from his eyes so he can see properly. Then, he watches.

The first thing he notices is that Yuuri and Yuri have a connection. It’s a strange one, something he can’t explain, but it’s evident in the way they skate around each other, the wisps of conversation he can hear from his perch in the grandstand. He’s never seen Yuri obey a direct order without muttering some scathing but innocuous comment afterwards, but with Yuuri he just nods his head, accepts the critique and tries the move again without preamble. They _understand_ each other, Victor thinks. Respect each other.

It’s quite the sight to see.

But perhaps what catches his attention even more is Yuuri himself. Having known each other for a little over a day, there’s still so much he wants to learn about Yuuri. What was the highlight of his competitive career? Would he ever go back? Why work at Ice Castle when he could, Victor assumes, get any job he wishes in the figure skating world? So many questions, all unanswered.

And yet, there is so much he is learning just by watching. He can tell Yuuri is patient from the way he shows Yuri how to skate on an inner edge, a feat that takes multiple examples to get right. Earlier, with the little girls, Yuuri didn’t care if he looked ridiculous, wearing that tutu and waving his hands in the air. As long as the girls were happy, it seemed as if he’d do anything. Only a man with the biggest of hearts would do that. And yesterday when they were skating together, Yuuri was always checking in on Victor — asking if he was too cold or if he was feeling jetlagged or if his feet hurt from skating so long. Caring.

Victor lets out a high-pitched sigh and closes his eyes. “Yuuri Katsuki, _how are you this perfect?”_

“I don’t know, why don’t you ask him yourself?”

Victor’s eyes fly open and he nearly falls out of his chair. When he reorients himself, Mila is grinning down at him, hip cocked out and arms crossed over her middle.

“Where did you come from?” Victor mutters.

Mila laughs and takes a seat next to him on the bench. “I’ve been standing here for five minutes, but you were too busy looking at your man to notice.”

“He’s not my _man_.”

“Oh, isn’t he? Because you’ve been giving him major heart eyes since yesterday.” She turns her gaze towards the ice and kicks her feet up on the metal railing in front of them. “You should ask him out.”

“What?!” Victor exclaims. “Why would I do that?”

“Because that’s what people do when they’re into someone?” Mila says like it’s obvious. She waves her hand towards Yuuri on the ice. “And he’s clearly into you, too.”

“How do you know that?”

“Please,” Mila snorts, elbowing him a little rougher than necessary. “It’s my job to keep an eye on everything you do, and since you two have been attached at the hip, I watch him too.” She goes quiet, places her hands in her lap and twirls her thumbs. “You couldn’t stop looking at him, but _he_ couldn’t quit looking at you, either.”

Victor bites down on his lower lip and toes the ground with the tip of his boot. “That...doesn’t mean he likes me.”

“Now you’re just being dumb.” Mila grabs his face between her fingers and turns his head towards Yuuri. “Look.”

Despite wanting to pull his head away, Victor acquiesces to Mila and glances towards the ice. Yuri is running through the step sequences he has learned, completely oblivious to Yuuri looking into the distance with a dreamy look on his face. It’s only when Georgi whispers something in his ear that he comes back to attention, averting his gaze to Victor in the stands. Like so many times before, his body shakes with laughter and waves halfheartedly before he focuses on Yuri again.

It’s the most precious thing he’s ever witnessed. He wants to paint pictures of that look, write poetry about it, take a photo and put it in an al—

“Victor? Victor!”

Victor snaps his gaze back to Mila, but turns away when he falls under her calculating stare.

“What?” he mumbles, trying to hide his now-red cheeks.

“Ask. Him. Out.”

“No. I. Will. Not.”

“Why?” she practically whines, pounding her fists against her thighs like a child who didn’t get dessert. “You haven’t dated anyone since Christophe, and that was five years ago. What gives?”

Victor lets out a humorless laugh and tosses his hands in the air. “When do I have time to date?” he exclaims. “If you haven’t noticed, I’m trying to run a country—”

“Which is slowly draining you!” she snaps back, narrowing her eyes at him. She pinches her nose between her fingers and lets out a sigh. “Listen, I’m not trying to force you into something you don’t want to do, but when was the last time you let yourself have fun? Do something outside of Yakov’s down-to-the-minute, perfectly planned schedule?” When he doesn’t answer, Mila raises an eyebrow at him. “You can’t remember, can you? That’s because it has been years. Ever since you took the throne it’s been one obligation after another.” She gets up from her place, crosses her arms and pulls her lips into a careful, soft smile. “You’re a king, but you’re also human and deserve a break. Why not now? Why not take a chance?”

Victor schools his features into what he hopes is an indifferent face, but inside his blood is pumping and sweat dews on his neck despite the frigidness of the rink. When _was_ the last time he did anything for himself? Two years ago? Three? Five? Before he took the crown? He can’t remember anything in recent memory, and that thought unsettles him more than he ever imagined it would. Life and love are luxuries for a person in his position, this he knows. His people come first, followed by the needs of Yuri, his advisors, staff, friends. What he wants comes last, as it should be. Kings aren’t meant to rule for themselves, after all.

But Mila is right. He may be a king, a ruler of a nation, but he’s also intrinsically, incredibly human, made of flesh and bone and blood like everyone else. He does long for something more, a person to warm his bed and call when things get rough. Christophe filled that void once before, coming to him at a diplomat’s dinner and propositioning a tête-à-tête in the bathroom after five glasses of champagne. What was supposed to be a civil conversation turned into a series of one-night-stands, meeting up at various dinners and charity drives and regada galas. It was fun and fast and everything he needed at the time, but fizzled as fast as it began, like a thunderstorm in the middle of summer.

Yuuri is the opposite. He’s the calm of the ocean on a sunny day, the breeze that kisses your skin as you walk along the shoreline. He listens without being asked, laughs at Victor’s lame jokes, treats him like an equal. He’s everything Victor needs _now_ , and it pains him that if he makes the move, asks him out like he so desperately wants to, that it won’t last longer than the week he’s here. Leaving is already going to be wrenching enough; adding fuel to the fire doesn’t feel wise.

But there’s that pull he feels towards Yuuri that he can’t explain. It’s addictive, entrancing, enticing. He’s drawn to it like a moth to flame, drawn to _Yuuri_ in ways he’s never been before.

He can’t let this time slip away, not when it’s right here, ready to take.

Victor lets out a sigh and leans his head back so he’s glaring at the fluorescent lights. It’s impossible, it’s irrational, it’s probably going to end in disaster, but it’s then that he knows this is a chance he can’t let go of.

“I’m going to do it,” Victor says, sitting up straight again. “I’m going to ask him ou — Mila?”

When he looks down, he nearly gasps at what he sees. He didn’t notice, but sometime between her last question and his internal freak-out, Mila moved to the boards to talk to Yuuri. She’s leaning close, almost whispering in his ear, and Victor feels a panic rise when she takes her phone out of her pocket and hands it to Yuuri.

“What is she doing?” he asks under his breath, narrowing his eyes as she takes the phone back and climbs the stairs again, waving the device in the air like it’s some sort of prize.

“You’re welcome,” she sing-songs.

“Why should I thank you? What did you do?”

Mila curls her lips into a feral smile and swipes open her phone. She clicks through a few screens until she pulls up a ‘notes’ app and hands it to Victor. “Because of _that_ ,” she says.

He narrows his eyes at her before turning to the device. On the screen is a foreign phone number and the words ‘Hasetsu Festival of Lights, Tuesday, 7:00 PM.’

“Congrats, lover boy. You’re going on a date.”

* * *

Victor doesn’t think he’s a nervous person. He can get through a speech without stumbling over his words, talk to world leaders like they’re old friends. It’s one of his best traits, the reason people rely on him in times of crisis. He’s the steady rock, the one who can think rationally no matter what.

But when it comes to Yuuri, all of that is out tossed out the window.

Victor is a nervous wreck. Ever since last night at Ice Castle, he’s been flubbing over his words, vibrating with nerves. Earlier in the day he had a meeting with Hasetsu’s leadership team and almost forgot his entire speech. He’s a mess, much to Mila’s entertainment.

“You’re shaking like a leaf,” she comments as they walk towards downtown. “It’s kinda hilarious.”

Victor scowls at her and runs his hands over his sweater for the thousandth time since they left the hotel. “Shut up.”

“Oooh, what a comeback,” she teases, but sobers once she notices how his hands are curled into fists at his sides, fingernails digging crescents into his skin. “Really, Victor, it’s going to be fine. Just be yourself and it’ll all work out. I promise.”

Victor sighs. “I can only hope.”

They walk the rest of the way in silence, Mila’s arm occasionally brushing his. As they approach the glittering lights of the city square, Mila reaches over and takes his hand in hers, squeezing once, twice, three times before letting go. Victor feels warmth fill him at the gesture; they may argue and tease, but at the end of the day, he’s never had a friend quite like Mila.

The festival is already in full swing when they approach. Mila grabs his arm so he won’t get lost in the crowds and drags him into the flurry, quietly apologizing as they push past families with children hoisted on their shoulders, dancers performing complicated routines, vendors selling their merchandise in rapid Japanese. The twangy beat of a drum and the calming sound of a bamboo flute floats over their heads, mixed in with the mumblings of the crowd as he walks by. But what is most impressive of all is the sheer amount of lights. Lanterns hang from every surface, casting a hazy glow over everyone and everything. Children run along the nearby shore with roman candles clutched between their tiny fists, illuminated by the moon.

But Yuuri is the brightest of them all.

Victor nearly trips over his own feet when he spies Yuuri in the crowd. He’s waving at them from a few feet away, dressed in a rich blue yukata with geometric flowers all over it. There’s nothing about him that’s out of the ordinary, nothing that would justify any attention, but to Victor? He’s eye-catching, the biggest beacon, even in a festival of lights.

_What did I get myself into?_

“Hey Mila...Victor,” Yuuri says when they approach.

Mila lets go of him once they’re standing still and takes a few steps back. “I won’t get in the way,” Mila promises with a tiny smile on her face. “But don’t do anything too crazy. I still have to keep an eye on you,” she says.

Yuuri laughs and walks forward, taking his place at Victor’s side. “Don’t worry, I won’t let him get too out of control.”

“I know you won’t,” Mila says, then turns on her heel so her back is facing them. “You have an early day tomorrow, Victor, so don’t stay out too long. Don’t do drugs, make good choices.” She glances over when Yuuri isn’t looking and mouths “be safe” before turning away, leaving Victor and his now-crimson face alone.

When she’s out of sight, Victor slowly turns towards Yuuri and says, “I like your outfit.”

Yuuri glances down at his feet so fast that his glasses almost slip off of his face. “Oh, thanks,” he replies with a timid smile. “It’s tradition to wear these to festivals. I’ve had this one for years.”

“Well, it looks great on you,” Victor practically cooes, which earns him a flustered glance from Yuuri. He lets him turn red for a few seconds before he changes the subject. “Where do we begin?”

Yuuri hums under his breath and glances around the area. “Well, there’s the food vendors if you’re hungry. Okonomiyaki is pretty popular, if you haven’t tried it, or there’s choco bananas, which are a crowd favorite. But,” he says, eyeing Victor up and down before pulling grabbing his arm and dragging him forward, “I want to see how well you can play Wanage.”

“Wanage?” Victor says as he stumbles after Yuuri. “What’s that?”

“It’s basically ring toss. Get all of your rings around the bottles to win. I’m undefeated,” he says with a smirk. “Care to see if you can beat me?”

Victor laughs. “I’ve never played before. How can I beat you?”

Yuuri shrugs at that and lets go of Victor’s arm. Victor tries not to whine at the loss of contact. “Oh, I get it. You’re too afraid,” he teases.

Victor halts in his tracks at that. “Excuse me? I’m afraid?”

“Uh-huh,” Yuuri says under his breath, spinning so he’s facing Victor. “Afraid.”

“Yuuri,” Victor says in a low voice. “I rule a country. I’ve been to the most dangerous places in the world. I’ve neutralized _war_ — okay, that last one isn’t true, but still, Yuuri, I’m not _afraid_.”

Yuuri looks him up and down once before smirking. “Then prove it,” he says before turning on his heel and walking towards a nearby booth.

“Oh watch me, I will!” Victor calls out, then follows him without looking back.

It’s no surprise that Victor gets his ass handed to him in the game. Yuuri is as good as he says he is, getting all of his rings around the bottles on his first try. Victor, on the other hand, misses almost all of his marks, earning him teasing laughs from both the booth runner and Yuuri.

(But it’s worth it, because when they finish and Yuuri gets to choose his prize, he picks out a stuffed seal and hands it over to Victor, saying that it’ll be a good companion for Makkachin.)

They then move onto a booth selling various wares, from ceramic bowls to homemade paper lanterns. Yuuri translates as they talk with the owner, an older woman with greying hair and laughter lines around her face. She comes up to Victor and gestures for him to follow her behind a curtain where a rack of yukatas in all colors awaits. Yuuri says that she wants to “make him look like a local” and insists he try on one, which he immediately agrees to. Who wouldn’t want to experience everything this city has to offer?

The old woman pulls out outfit after outfit, holding each one up to his face before mumbling her displeasure and trying another. After nothing works out, she motions for Yuuri to come join her by the rack and gestures to options, clearly looking for his opinion. Yuuri smiles softly and begins carding through the yukatas, deep in thought as he rejects one after the other. For a second he wonders if it’s a lost cause, but then Yuuri lets out a gasp and pulls one that’s perfect. It’s light green on the top, fading to blue on the bottom. White flowers pop out against the ombre, and the ruby belt seals the deal.

He’s quickly shoved off to the changing room where he strips off his street clothes and puts on the yukata. It’s weird, if he’s being honest. With only his boxers on underneath the fabric he feels exposed, but the longer he stares at himself in the long mirror, the more he likes it.

(And rendering Yuuri nearly speechless when he walks out is quite the perk.)

They leave with Victor’s street clothes stowed away in a plastic bag and wander through the crowd. It’s a little hard to hear each other over the roaring din, but they somehow manage, getting into lighter conversation. Yuuri talks fondly about going to this festival as a kid, trailing his sister and her friends the entire time like a lost puppy. That turns into questions about his home life, learning more about his parents and sister and Minako, a family friend who has been like a second mother to Yuuri for years now. Listening to Yuuri talk fills Victor with so much joy, so much warmth, just like it did that first day.

But that warmth turns to panic when Yuuri says, “Can I ask you something? Something... personal?”

Victor’s fingers still on the art prints he’s flipping through. “Personal?” he asks.

“Yes,” Yuuri replies in a low, hesitant voice. “It’s about something Mila said yesterday.”

Victor immediately fills with panic. While she’s great at keeping national security secrets, Mila’s known for being a bit of a gossip. His thoughts race, trying to figure out what on earth she could’ve told Yuuri that would make him sound this timid.

“What is it?” he asks after a few moments of quiet.

Yuuri busies himself with pulling out one of the prints and examining it as he says, “Is it true I’m your first date in years?”

Victor curls his fingers tighter around the art he’s holding and files it back in with the others. “What did she tell you?”

“Nothing really,” he responds. “Just...that it’s been awhile since you’ve allowed yourself to date, that’s all. And I guess…”

“Yes?”

“I guess... I want to know why you asked me out, then.”

Victor leans back on his heels and glances up at the dark, glittering sky above them. How does he explain it? How does he let Yuuri know just how much he’s affected him without scaring him off?

“You don’t have to answer!” Yuuri interjects when Victor takes too long to respond. “I... I was... I was _wondering_ —”

“I asked you out because I’m attracted to you,” he says lamely, hating how weak of an answer that is.

Yuuri glances over at him and says, “But... why?”

“Why? Why what?”

“Why are you attracted to me?” he says, curling in on himself. “I mean, I’m just a dime-a-dozen figure skater from Japan and you rule an entire nation. We’re not even close to being on the same level.”

Victor’s can feel himself gaping but he can’t stop it. Does Yuuri not realize how amazing he is? How he’s turned Victor’s life upside down within the course of two days? That he’s the reason he’s been singing in the shower, smiling more, being genuinely _happier_? He opens his mouth to say this, let Yuuri know how much he’s affected Victor over these past few days, but he’s cut off when loud clapping erupts from all around. They both turn towards the noise, eyes caught on the glowing lanterns that are now floating up into the sky, dotting the black night with gold.

“It’s beautiful,” Victor whispers under his breath.

Yuuri moves next to him and lets out a wistful sigh. “It’s an old tradition. People write their wishes on pieces of paper and stick them in a lantern. If they successfully float, then the wish will come true.” He turns towards Victor and flashes a nervous smile. “Do you... want to try?”

Victor doesn’t wait a minute. He reaches forward, takes Yuuri’s hand in his, and runs through the crowd. They laugh as they once again fight past closely packed people, Yuuri yelling out apologies in Japanese when they accidentally step on the tail someone’s dog. It’s exhilarating and wonderful. Victor’s never felt this alive.

The feeling lingers when they emerge on the other side and make their way towards the lanterns. There’s surprisingly no line, so they walk up, request a lantern, pens and two piece of paper, then make their way towards the beach.

“What are you going to wish for?” Victor asks as he uncaps his pen, tip hovering over the page.

“You can’t say what you’re wishing for,” Yuuri says as he writes down his own answer, folding it up and holding it between his fingers. “Then it won’t come true. Everyone knows that.”

Victor rolls his eyes but doesn’t fight back. Instead he looks at his paper. There are many things he could wish for, practical things, like forming a long-lasting alliance with Japan, or Makkachin’s immortality. He could wish for world peace or a friend for Yuri or a nice vacation for Yakov.

But he doesn’t wish for any of those things. For once in his life, he lets himself be selfish.

 _I wish to enjoy this while it lasts_ , Victor pens on the paper in a loopy, script font, then folds it up, walks with Yuuri over to the ocean’s edge, and places it in their shared lantern. A festival volunteer comes over once both of their papers are inserted, tells them a brief history of the tradition, then lights the flame and lets it fly.

At first, Victor’s concerned. It floats above their heads but doesn’t rise, instead dipping towards the ground. But then, as if fate intended it, a gust of wind comes out of nowhere, carrying it up, up, and away.

Victor watches as it floats into the sky, growing smaller the farther up it goes. It’s gorgeous, the way it mixes in with the other lanterns. He wonders if he’s ever seen anything more magical.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Yuuri says from beside him and _oh_.

He was wrong.

Because when he looks over at Yuuri, face illuminated by the festival’s glow, he can see the universe painted in his eyes. It’s ethereal and wonderful and _magical_ , like nothing he’s ever seen before.

He gulps. Makes fists. Tries to calm the electricity that’s dancing along his skin.

But when Yuuri turns towards him and uncurls Victor’s fingers, lacing them with his, he realizes it’s no use.

He’s officially gone on Yuuri Katsuki, and there’s nothing he can do about it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I was going to hold off on writing this next (and final!) chapter, but my muse wouldn't let it go. Which is how I ended up pounding out 10k words over the course of a few days (which probably isn't a lot for many, but for me it was like, a TON). 
> 
> I hope you all like it, but especially you, Lily! It's been fun writing this little world for you, and I hope that it can bring you a little bit of happiness and enjoyment :)

The following days are a blur of motion, passing faster than Victor ever expected them to.

After the lantern ceremony, Yuuri took his hand and led him towards the shore. They kicked off their shoes and let the water wade over their feet as they wandered further and further away from the cacophony of chatter, instead listening to the gentle rumble of the ocean and their own hushed voices. The two walked and talked and laughed until Mila tracked them down, letting them know the festival had long since closed down and it was time to head back. They parted with hugs and promises to grab tea tomorrow, then Yuuri waved and walked off, leaving Victor alone with his pattering heart.

Tuesday was filled with obligations: meetings with monotoned officials in the morning, volunteering with sick animals in the afternoon. He nodded at all the right places and acted as interested as he could muster, but his mind was constantly wandering back to the night before, to yukatas and lanterns and Yuuri’s warm hand in his. If anyone noticed they did not say a word, which in some ways Victor was thankful for. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to explain why he looked like a lovesick puppy while a government official discussed the history of Japanese warfare.

By the time he walked back into the now-familiar coolness of Ice Castle, Victor’s heart was hammering like a child who’d eaten too much sugar. What if last night was a fluke? What if Yuuri didn’t really like him as much as he let on? The thoughts raced and raced, but came to a calming halt when he walked into the rink and found Yuuri leaning up against the boards, two to-go cups clutched between his fingers while he flashed a devastatingly beautiful smile.

That night they opted to let Yuri skate on his own while they sat on the bleachers, sipping oolong and discussing how Victor’s meetings went. Yuuri listened while Victor explained how one of the puppies he worked with spat up all over his clothes, and laughed so hard tears spilled out of his eyes when Victor flashed him the stain as proof. That led to stories about Makkachin, how he got her, how he’s missed her more than words can say. Yuuri opened up about Vicchan, a poodle he acquired when he was twelve years old and has since passed on, and discussed how he wished he had been around to say goodbye.

Somewhere between finishing their tea and Yuri declaring he’s ready to head home, Yuuri’s head had landed on Victor’s shoulder. He probably should've minded it; they’d barely known each other for more than a couple of days, but he couldn’t get himself to feel anything other than pure bliss.

By Wednesday, it’s clear they have a routine. Perform whatever daily obligation Victor has for the day, wander off the Ice Castle when Yakov has his back turned, and let Yuri have his skating lesson. Grab coffee or tea or whatever the drink of choice is that day, sit in Yuuri’s office or at a local cafe, talk until the sun goes down or Mila drags him away, whatever comes first.

It’s easy, planned, comfortable. Victor loves knowing that no matter how hard his day is, Yuuri will be waiting at the end of it with tea and a listening ear. He can’t imagine going about his day any differently now.

Which is why when he wanders into Ice Castle on Friday afternoon, he’s thrown for a loop.

“No, that’s not where the costumes go — Lutz! Stop hitting your sister or else your mom will hear about it! Has anyone seen Nishigori?” Yuuri turns on his heel and nearly jumps out of his skin when he finds Victor and his team there. “Oh, sorry! It’s uh, a bit chaotic in here right now.”

Victor whistles under his breath. “Chaotic is an understatement,” he mutters, eyes flicking around the rink. It’s been completely transformed. Twinkle lights are draped along the railing edges, complimenting the blue and white snowflakes that the Nishigori triplets are sticking all over the boards. Yuuko (who he finally met a few days ago) waves to them from the balcony, one hand wrapped around the railing, the other hoisting up a large banner that reads ‘LET IT SNOW: AN EXHIBITION’ in large calligraphy. And when he looks down, the floor is covered in fake snowflakes.

“Wow, amazing,” Victor whispers in a low voice. “It’s like walking into a winter wonderland!”

“Beautiful,” Mila chimes in agreement. “I can see how hard you all worked.”

They all collectively turn towards Yuri. He yanks down his hoodie over his eyes and says, “It’s pretty nice, I guess.”

Yuuri visibly relaxes before them. “Thank you.” He takes a deep breath then lets it out. “The recital is always a big deal around here for all of our skaters. It’s the one time a year they get to perform for an audience and we want to make it right.” He turns to Yuri and visibly sighs. “But that means I won’t be able to coach you today. Sorry I forgot to mention that yesterday.” Before Yuri can respond, a buzzing comes from Yuuri’s pocket. He reaches inside and pulls out his phone, face falling when he reads whatever text he received. “Dammit,” he mumbles, teeth biting down on his lower lip. “Dammit, dammit, dammit.”

“What’s wrong? Anything I can help with?” Victor immediately asks.

Yuuri deflates before him and pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “I just got a text from one of my workers. He was supposed to help me queue up all of our recital tracks, but he just called in sick. Says he has the flu, which means he’s probably seeing his girlfriend.” Yuuri moans and lets his eyes close. “What the hell am I supposed to do now?”

Earlier in the week, Victor would’ve taken a few moments, weighed his choices on how to spend his night. But now, his answer is almost immediate.

“I can help!” he exclaims. “I mean...I’d love to be of assistance. And I’m sure Yuri—”

“Oh hell _no_ you don’t! I can’t stand another night of _you_ ,” he jabs his finger at Victor, “making heart eyes at _him_.” He turns to Yuuri and pulls his lips into a scowl. “It’s disgusting.”

Victor gapes back at him, at a loss for words. “I...I can’t...I’ve never looked at Yuuri in my _life_ —”

“Calm down, Casanova,” Mila interjects when it’s clear Victor is about to implode. She wraps her arms around Yuri and shakes him back and forth. “How about you help out while I take Yuri back to the hotel? Georgi is here, and you know how kittens need their rest, huh?”

“What? Let me go, Mila! I won’t stand for this! Hey! HEY!” he cries out, but he’s no match against Mila and her impressive training. It takes no effort at all for her to guide them both out the door, pulling Yuri along like an insolent child.

He can’t help it. A boisterous, loud laugh escapes from him, echoing through the room. Yuuko casts a fond look at him from her perch above, and the triplets pay attention for five seconds before they find something more interesting to watch. And Yuuri? Yuuri takes one glance at him and begins laughing along, holding onto the boards for support.

“It really wasn’t that funny,” Victor says as he wipes the tears from his eyes. “But gracious, I’ve never seen him that angry before!”

Yuuri calms his own laughter. “Me neither. But now that he’s gone…” Yuuri gestures towards the DJ booth that’s set up across the rink. “We should get going. You ready?”

Victor nods. “I’m always ready.”

He regrets those words a few hours later, when his hand is cramping up from writing, crossing out, and rewriting a set list over and over again. Yuuri says he has a set order, but every time a new clip comes on he changes it, because clearly a program from _The Nutcracker_ can’t possibly be before the peewee class’s rendition of _Twinkle Twinkle Little Star_.

By the time Yuuri calls for a break, Victor’s gone through ten sheets of paper and is sure he never wants to handwrite anything ever again.

“Why can’t I type this?” Victor whines from his place on Yuuri’s office sofa. His feet are kicked up on the armrest and his head is dangling off the edge. “My hand loathes you now, Yuuri. Loathes.”

Yuuri pulls a box from his cupboard and wanders over to Victor’s side. He takes a seat on the ground and pops off the tab, revealing a line of perfectly formed, chocolate covered breadsticks.

“...Pocky? That’s your repayment?” Victor teases.

Yuuri laughs and plucks one from the box, twirling it between his fingers. “You don’t know? It’s the dinner of champions.” He takes a bite and closes his eyes, letting a moan rumble through him. “Mmm. Delicious.”

Victor sits up on the couch and reaches for one himself. “You didn’t answer my question,” he notes when he takes a bite of his food. “Why must I suffer like this?”

“Why we do anything around here,” Yuuri replies with a shrug. “We had a computer, but it broke. We wanted to fix it, but when you have cracks to fill and safety regulations to keep up with, choosing where your money goes is important.” He looks directly at Victor, brings one finger up to rest against his chin. “Wouldn’t a king know that?” he asks with a sly smile.

Victor swats at his arm and smiles back, letting his gaze fall to the gingham patterned couch. “More than you’ll ever know,” he says. “You know how tiny Glacia is. It’s barely a blip on the map. We don’t have other countries to help us out. Hell, I wonder at times if half of the world even knows we exist. Which means we’re constantly relying on ourselves, debating budgets and funds and how to keep the people afloat. So yes,” he looks up at Yuuri and nods his head. “I understand.”

Yuuri pulls another piece of pocky from the box and leans back on his free hand. He ducks his head, averting his eyes to the nearby wall where a clock ticks by. “Can I...ask you about that?” he says after a few moments of quiet.

“About what?”

“About being a king. About ruling an entire nation. You didn’t have a choice, I know, but...would you?”

“Would I what?”

“Have chosen it if… circumstances were different?”

Victor leans back into the cushions and looks at the ceiling. _Would_ he have chosen this life, if circumstances were different? He’d like to think that he’d fulfill the family duty and take over when his father was ready to hand him the crown. He’d like to imagine that he wouldn’t even consider anything else, that he’d accept the role with open arms and with a smile on his face.

And if you asked him this question only a week ago, he would've shot off that answer immediately, placed on a grin and move the conversation along. No reason in talking about things that couldn’t be changed.

But now, sitting on this couch with Yuuri looking at him expectantly, his thoughts race. He remembers being five years old, walking into his father’s study and plopping himself down at the desk. Victor picked up a pen and scribbled all over his father’s work documents, and when he came back and found a copy of their declaration of independence ruined, he berated Victor into next week. He asked _why_ Victor drew on such an important document, and Victor just looked at him with wide, blue eyes and said “Because I want to be like you, Papa.”

That dream of his, to be like his father, stayed with him through childhood. He followed his father wherever he went, listened in on the private meetings he wasn’t invited to, stuck his nose into paperwork and books and genealogies. He wanted to learn everything, be perfectly prepared for when it was his turn to sit in his father’s chair and wear his crown and rule with a firm (but loving) hand.

At least, until he was thirteen and saw a horde of men put out a fire. Then he was convinced his purpose in life was the be a fireman, which led to the biggest crisis of his young life. How would he break the news to his father? Could he give up his duty for his dream?

He was distraught, visibly so, enough that one day he did the only thing he could do: go to Nikolai.

 _“What if I don’t want to be king?”_ he blurted out, hands resting in his lap while he looked at the large desk Nikolai was seated at.

Nikolai pushed up the bridge of his reading glasses and said, _“Why is that, Vitya?”_

_“Because I want to be a fireman! I wanna drive trucks and save people. But...I’m supposed to be the king! What do I do?”_

Nikolai got up from his chair and took a seat next to Victor. He laid a hand on his shoulder, looked him in the eye, and said, _“You follow your heart, that’s what you do. Always. No exceptions. You get one life; don’t waste it on other people’s dreams and wants.”_

Even after everything, when he was thrown into a role he wasn’t sure he wanted and given a crown that barely fit his eighteen year old head, he remembered those words, clung onto that hope that even if he couldn’t change his fate, he could still choose his path.

But that still doesn’t answer Yuuri’s question, and he can see Yuuri is beginning to recoil, waiting for an answer.

“I don’t know,” he says after who knows how long. “I honestly don’t know.”

Yuuri seems to accept that answer, doesn’t push it further. Instead he offers the pocky box again and they take turns plucking biscuits between their fingers, eating in a comfortable silence for a few minutes. It’s a nice change from the chaos of the rink, but with no conversation flowing between them, Victor’s mind begins to drift, form his own questions.

“You never did tell me how you ended up here,” Victor says after the last of the pocky is eaten.

Yuuri glances up at him from under his lashes and tosses the now-empty box into a nearby trashcan. “At Ice Castle?”

“Yes,” Victor says. “At Ice Castle. You asked me if being a king is what I wanted. Was running an ice rink what you wanted?”

Yuuri leans back against his desk and crosses his legs. He thinks for a moment, face looking as if in deep thought, before he says, “Not really.”

“Not really?”

“No, not really.” When it’s clear Victor is waiting for more, Yuuri sighs and brushes the hair out of his eyes before letting his head loll backwards. “I wanted to coach, bring the next great Japanese figure skater to the limelight. After my retirement I was all ready to go, too. A young guy named Minami asked me to coach him and I said yes, but…”

“Yes?”

“...But then I heard that Ice Castle was about to go under. I learned how to skate here, grew up with Nishigori and Yuuko as rinkmates. We couldn’t let it close down, so we all pulled together and bought it.” He gets up from the floor, opting to take a seat by Victor on the couch instead. “And the rest is history. I tried doing both, coaching Minami for a year and running Ice Castle, but even with all three of us on board it was impossible. So I gave up my dream for all of this.” He gestures around the room, from the oak desk to the clock to the piles of unfiled paperwork. “But you know what?”

“What?” Victor asks.

“I wouldn’t change a thing. Would you?”

Victor pulls his lower lip between his teeth as he mulls it over. Being king is tough; it’s relentless and tiring and sometimes wears him to the bone. There are days when he wants to find someone else for the job, or take a long vacation, or run away into the arms of a beautiful man with blue-rimmed glasses.

But he doesn’t, because being king gave him all the best parts of his life. It gave him a country filled with kindhearted people who want to see a better world. It gave him his closest friends, Mila and Georgi and even Chris. It gave him Yakov, a man who has been the closest thing to a father ever since his own perished.

And it gave him the man next to him: Yuuri. Wonderful, gorgeous, amazing Yuuri who has become more important to him than he ever could’ve imagined.

“No,” Victor says, reaching over and pulling Yuuri’s hand into his. He turns his head, looks him in the eye, brings their faces close and whispers, “I wouldn’t change anything at all.”

If this were a movie, Victor would kiss Yuuri right now. Here, with so little space between them, every little movement feels like a livewire. He can feel Yuuri’s breath brush against his ear, smell Yuuri’s tangy lemon scented shampoo, see the way Yuuri keeps glancing down at his lips — almost, but not quite, making a move. If this were a movie, Victor would shoot off a clever one-liner, maybe a comment on Yuuri’s tenacity, or how he’s been waiting for this forever, or how beautiful he looks in the dim office lighting. If this were a movie, Victor would lean in, let his eyes flutter shut, and wait for the beautiful pressure that comes with a first kiss.

But this isn’t a movie, and Victor is leaving tomorrow, and Yuuri is already pulling away, breaking whatever energy just passed between them. Yuuri gets up from the couch in a flurry, brushing off the nonexistent dirt from his pants and twirling in a circle. “Uh, we better get back to work if we want to get prepared for tomorrow,” he says, then turns so he’s facing Victor and flashes him what looks like an apologetic smile. “Ready?”

No, he isn’t ready to go. He wants to treasure this moment forever, rewind it over and over again. When they leave this room, this moment will crack and break. He doesn’t want that, not at all.

But Yuuri is looking at him with those wide, pleading eyes of his, and he has no choice but to get up, grin, and say, “Always.”

* * *

After Victor assures Yakov for the thousandth time they wouldn’t miss their flight to Glacia, they all make their way to Ice Castle. People of all ages mill around the venue, skaters dressed in glittery tutus, parents dressed in long, flowy dresses. Two young men pace a few feet away, talking in low voices with their skates draped over their shoulders; a pair of teenagers giggle close by, huddled over their ringleader’s phone.

He’s never seen Ice Castle so crowded. It’s quite a sight.

They follow the traffic flow into the building and grab their tickets from a panic-stricken desk worker, eyes wide as he takes in the sheer amount of people in the room, then are guided to their seats by Loop. The metal of the bench is freezing when Victor sits down between Yakov and Mila, and he can feel his body tense up as the cold seeps through him. Honestly, he thought he’d be used to it by now, but he’s convinced he is getting less attuned to the cold the longer he’s here.

He doesn’t get to ponder his personal discomfort before the overhead lights flicker off and the twinkle lights burst to life. It’s even more gorgeous today; every bulb looks like a firefly glowing in the night. The light reflects against the fake snow, bringing out the flecks of glitter, and the spotlight that beams over the middle of the ice is dimmed, making the entire room feel electric.

A few minutes of quiet conversation pass between the patrons around him, but soon enough everyone falls into a hush as the first group takes the ice. The three teenage girls line up in a row, heads bowed, hands on their hips. One of them glances over to the DJ booth and nods.

The next thing he knows, the room is filled with music and movement and magic. Girls twirl on the ice in their perfectly picked costumes, aweing everyone with their jumps and spins and group programs. Boys who can’t be older than five skate hand in hand, barely staying upright as they kick their feet out and turn in a circle. The two young men Victor saw outside earlier skate a striking duet, portraying good versus evil with their quick movements and lifts.

It’s beautiful, all of it. Victor can barely take his eyes off of anyone, so entranced by the impossible moves and intricate jumps. Skater after skater takes to the ice, each one better than the last. An hour passes, then two. Victor is so taken that he almost forgets that in a couple of hours, he’ll be on a plane to Glacia and this will all be a distant memory.

 _Almost_ being the key word, because two and a half hours into the recital, Mila tugs on his jacket.

“Victor… it’s time,” she whispers in a low voice. “We’ll miss our flight if we don’t leave soon.”

He tears his gaze away from the ice for the first time all evening and turns towards Mila. Her lips are pulled into a thin line and she can’t look him in the eye. In the dimness of the rink he can’t be certain, but he thinks he sees a tear drip from her eye and land on her lap.

It makes him ache inside. He wasn’t the only one who was affected by this experience. Mila and Georgi and even Yuri were too — changed because of the people they met here, the experiences they had. It only makes him want to stay more, to take more than he’s being offered and not be ashamed about it, to slip off the cape of responsibility and let himself be free for once.

But he can’t. Of course he can’t. He’s got a country to return to and people to serve and duties to uphold.

With an exaggerated sigh, Victor gets up from his bench and begins walking towards the exit. “I’ll need to say goodbye to — ump!”

Victor nearly trips over his own feet when a hand clamps around his arm, pulling him back into his seat. He glances to his left and finds Yuri there, reaching across Yakov and glaring at him as he pulls his hand off of Victor.

“Not yet,” Yuri mutters under his breath as the lights dim on the ice. “You’re gonna want to see this one.”

“What — huh?”

Yuri points at the ice. “Just look!”

Victor follows Yuri’s order and glances across the rink. At first he can’t see anything through the dark besides a shadowed figure, but when the lights come up everything is clear.

He looks different, out there on the ice. His usual jeans and sweaters have been replaced with a jewel-toned suit, one with mesh and rhinestones that glitter in the light. His usually unkempt hair is slicked back out of his eyes, and his glasses are nowhere to be found. It’s like looking at a completely different person, until he glances up and hits Victor with one of his trademark, brilliant grins.

Victor laughs a little under his breath. Oh, it’s Yuuri all right. Nobody else can make his breath quicken and his heart pound like that.

Music begins playing over the speakers and Yuuri begins his program. It’s a slow beginning, filled with step sequences and careful movements. Every glide is precise, thought out.

But then Yuuri flies into his first jump and everything changes.

The music picks up in speed, notes tumbling and turning along with Yuuri. His feet move faster than Victor can comprehend, flitting across the ice in time to the cresting notes. He flicks from spins to jumps and back again, never seeming to lose even the slightest of breath. He’s like the fiercest of winds, the lion’s roar, the tide against the shore all at once. And when the music calms, comes to a close, he turns in a circle and lets his hand drift outwards towards the crowd, towards _Victor_.

It’s overwhelming.

The crowd bursts into an uproar and rushes to their feet. Victor stays where he is.

He can feel it in the air; what he just witnessed was something only for him.

Mila can sense it too, and gently tugs at his arm. “Come with me,” she whispers under her breath, draping her arms over his shoulders as she pushes past Georgi and escapes out into the lobby.

The difference in light makes him blink a few times, but when his vision clears and he gets a good look at Mila, he finds her glancing at him with a pitying expression on her face, arms crossed over her middle.

“What?” he tries to say forcefully, but his voice cracks.

“Nothing, just… I knew you cared for him, Victor, but… I didn’t know you were in love with him.”

Victor blanches at that. Love? How can it be love, this soon? He’s only known Yuuri for a week. Nobody can fall that fast.

...Right?

But what else explains the torrent of emotions he’s feeling right now? What other word describes the gut-punching despair that runs through him at the thought of letting him go? What other explanation is there for the butterflies in his gut, the way he lights up whenever they talk, the countless hours he’s thought about him? Is there one?

He doesn’t have a clue.

“Victor?” Mila asks when he doesn’t answer. “Are you?”

He takes a breath and lets it out. “I don’t know,” he says. 

“Then what do you know?”

The click of a door opens behind them and a stream of people file out, hugging their children and snapping photos when they think he isn’t looking. Victor pays them no mind, just grabs Mila’s arm and drags her into a dark corner where they won’t be noticed.

“I know… that I care for him,” he says once he’s sure nobody is in earshot. “I know that he’s the best thing to happen to me since my father passed, the reason I’ve checked my calendar seven times since this morning, wondering when I can come back. I know that… I _could_ love him. If given the chance.” He pauses and leans back against the wall. “But I can’t take that chance, can I?”

Mila looks him up and down before reaching over to smack him upside the head.

“What was that for?” he moans.

“For being a quitter! Are you really going to give him up that easily?” she hisses through her teeth. “If he’s that important to you, tell him! _Now_ ,” she emphasizes, waving her hand towards the crowd in front of them.

Victor turns and bites his lip. Laying it all out there for Yuuri to see is not what he was planning tonight. He envisioned a quiet goodbye, one with a hug and promises to keep in touch, no declarations or promises of forever.

But Mila is right. If he doesn’t tell Yuuri now how he feels, when will he get the chance again?

“How much time do I have?” he asks.

“I’m texting Georgi,” she says as she pulls her phone out of her pocket, fingers flying across the keys. “He can distract Yakov for fifteen minutes, but go over that and I make no promises.” When she’s done texting, she leans forward and grabs his arm. “Now let’s go!”

He doesn’t need to be told again. Together they take off, Victor checking the time on his watch. Fifteen minutes isn’t a lot of time, but he has to make it work.

It’s almost impossible to get through the hoards of people, but eventually Mila manages to elbow everyone out of their way and make it through to the other side of the lobby. Victor peers over the sea of heads, looking for any sign of a man who looks like Yuuri. He finds none.

Five minutes down.

They find themselves trekking towards the back hallways next. That’s where the performers were waiting, after all, but when they emerge out of the tunnels, there is no one to be found.

“Yuuri, where are you?” he calls out. He gets no response.

Nine minutes pass. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. No sign of Yuuri or Nishigori or anyone he knows. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen.

And then time runs out.

They end up back in the lobby after checking the break room. It’s cleared out considerably, only a few families left, chatting with one another while their costume-clad children chase each other around the floor. They turns to their left, hoping to make a beeline for the rink itself, but Yakov materializes from nowhere, scowl etched onto his lips.

“Enough of this nonsense, Vitya,” Yakov growls under his breath. “It’s time to go.”

“But Yakov,” he says, hating how his voice comes out like a whine. “I must talk to Yuuri before I go. It’s only polite.”

“No. You had your chance, and now it is gone. Yuuri will understand that we had to leave. Write him a letter when you get back.”

“Actually people don’t really write letters anymore…” Victor mutters, but quiets the minute he earns a piercing glare from Yakov.

Yakov sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “I know you care for the boy, Vitya. Yuri has complained to me how lovesick you are around him all week. But you can’t throw everything away because of a man you met a week ago. You’re Glacia’s only ruler, and everyone is relying on you to return.” He walks forward and places a firm hand on Victor’s arm. “I’m sorry it has to be this way.”

Victor casts his eyes to the ceiling, willing the tears away. He knows Yakov is right, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

“Can I just have a few more minutes? Alone?” Victor whispers, desperately, brokenly. “I promise I’ll come with you afterwards with no complaints.”

Yakov looks at him up and down before letting out an exasperated sigh. “Five more minutes. But that is it, Vitya. I mean it.”

Victor looks over at him with watery eyes. “Thank you, Yakov.” He pulls him into a hug, then lets go just as quickly. “I owe you.”

And then he’s off, making the most of the time he has.

The path to Yuuri’s office is a familiar one now. He’s walked it over and over again this past week, and it doesn’t take long for him to end up outside of that familiar wooden door. The lights are off inside and when he yanks on the handle he finds it locked.

Perfect. Just _perfect._

With a sigh, Victor pulls out the envelope that has been tucked away since last morning. It’s thin, with the Glacia emblem and Yuuri’s name printed on the front. He’d been planning on giving it to Yuuri in person, having him read the contents and then explain his choices, but there’s no time for that. Instead, Victor brings the envelope to his lips, presses a featherlight kiss to the paper, and shoves it under Yuuri’s door.

“Goodbye, Yuuri,” he whispers to no one. “I hope to one day see you again.”

After waiting for a few more minutes, Victor turns on his heel and makes his way back towards the lobby.

It’s only then that he allows himself to cry.

* * *

Victor loathes airports. They’re loud and filled with people and drab looking, everything painted off-white. The floors are rundown and everyone is cranky and you can never get a decent meal. They’re objectively terrible and always leave him exhausted beyond belief.

Today is no exception. His eyes droop with weariness as Mila dutifully leads them through the crowds wandering about, eyes straight ahead and mouth pushed into a thin line. It’s clear she’s angry on his behalf; she said as much on the drive to Fukuoka, ranting about how unfair it is that he didn’t get to say goodbye properly. She’s trying to make him feel better, this he knows, but all it does is reopen the chasm inside of him. The one he’s desperately trying to hold together.

They pass through a private security scan a few minutes later, then entertain a couple of locals who stop them with selfies and conversation in Victor’s broken Japanese. Yakov hurries them along, saying that they’ll miss their flight if they don’t hurry up. They’re whisked along through the hallways, passing terminal after terminal until they reach their desired destination.

“The pilot will be ready for us in fifteen minutes,” Yakov mutters as he passes by, taking a seat on one of the plastic chairs. He lowers his cap over his head and leans backwards. “Wake me when it’s time.”

He forces his lips into a half-smile, the most he can manage right now. “Rest, Yakov. We won’t leave you behind.”

Yakov grunts once then goes quiet, crossing his legs over each other as his breathing evens out and he drifts into sleep.

Victor lets out a sigh and wanders over to the large, glass windows that overlook the terminal. The sky is dark, but light pollution makes it look a slate colored grey. There are a few stars he can make out, but most of them are faded, dulled, nothing like the night he looked into the Hasetsu’s inky sky and saw thousands above his head.

 _Don’t think about it_ , he berates himself. _It will only be harder if you do_.

But once the picture is in his mind, he can’t shake it, and a thousand more come flooding back. He envisions himself walking into Ice Castle for the first time, witnessing the coldness of the rink, the air of calm that draped over everything and everyone. He remembers wandering through Hasetsu, charmed by the simplicity of it all, the beautiful architecture, the peaceful crash of waves. He recalls warm nights, warm food, warm people.

And finally, he thinks of Yuuri. Yuuri on their first day at Ice Castle, looking windblown and flustered and adorable all at once. Yuuri at the Festival of Lights, taking Victor’s hand between his own and showing him a sliver of his culture, letting him engage with a community he adores. Yuuri breathing his air, close enough to kiss.

Yuuri saying his name.

_“Victor…”_

He closes his eyes and curls his fingers into fists. It sounds so close, so real, he can almost believe Yuuri is here with him.

_“Victor…”_

He opens his eyes again and rests on hand against the glass. It’s too much to handle. He needs to come back to reality. Yuuri is back in Hasetsu and Victor is here and they are boarding in five—

“Victor!”

He freezes.

That isn’t his imagination.

Reluctantly, cautiously, Victor turns around.

And nearly stumbles back into the glass at what he finds.

Yuuri is standing before him while Mila and Georgi gape from afar. His hair, which was perfectly coiffed earlier, is a mess, a clear sign that he’s been running. His hands are on his knees and he’s clearly gasping for breath, but his head is raised, eyes trained on Victor. But what grabs Victor’s attention the most is his letter in Yuuri’s hand, envelope ripped open.

“Yuuri?” Victor says, at a loss for words. “Wha…”

“What am I doing here?” he gets out through heaving breaths, repositioning himself into a standing position. “You left without saying goodbye, that’s why I’m here! Why would you… how did you…” he tosses his hands in the air.

A few passerby turn their heads and pull out their phones, so Victor walks forward and gently guides Yuuri over to an empty terminal. They slide down against the wall and sit close, arms touching.

“Yuuri,” Victor says after they’re settled, “I tried to find you before I left, but I looked everywhere. Mila held off Yakov for as long as she could, but in the end, I couldn’t wait.” He gestures to the letter that’s perched in Yuuri’s hands. “I wanted to give you that in person, explain myself.”

Yuuri lets out a short, breathy laugh. “Yeah, an explanation for this would be nice.” He pulls out the contents, letting them fall into his lap. On top is a simple note which reads “Thanks for everything”.

Below is a check for 100k.

“What is this about?” Yuuri asks, waving the check in front of Victor’s eyes.

Victor diverts his gaze. “I just wanted to thank you for the past week,” he says. “That’s all.”

“Donating 100k is how you say thanks to everyone?” he asks with a raised eyebrow, which makes Victor blush red.

“No… not everyone. Only…” he hesitates. Catches himself. Wonders if now is the right time to say what’s on his mind.

But then he remembers Mila’s words.

_If he’s that important to you, tell him._

Victor sucks in a breath and reaches over to pull Yuuri’s hand into his. He twines their fingers, leans in closer, leaves no room for misinterpretation.

“...Only for those I really care about,” he finishes, glancing up at Yuuri.

It takes a minute for Yuuri to process it, but when he does the ‘o’ shape his lips are in spreads out into a wide, toothy smile. His eyes light up, just like they did when he looked at Victor from the ice.

“...You care for me?” Yuuri whispers.

Victor just nods. “More than you’ll ever know. More than I ever planned for.”

This time when Victor leans in, there is no hesitation. Yuuri meets him halfway, lets his eyes flutter shut, and presses his lips against Victor’s.

Yuuri’s kiss is intoxicating, all-consuming. It brings the butterflies in his gut to life and makes his skin feel like electricity is dancing over it. It’s magical, wonderful, everything he’s been imagining and more.

But it ends as quickly as it began, Yuuri pulling back. He rests his forehead against Victor’s, brings his free hand up to cup Victor’s head. It’s only then that he notices the tear tracks on Yuuri’s cheeks, the wetness in his eyes.

“Don’t go,” Yuuri whispers against his lips. “Not yet.”

Victor lets out a humorless laugh, fresh tears appearing in his eyes. “I have to,” he says through the thickness in his throat. “But I’ll call you every day. I’ll visit when I can. I won’t let this,” he waves a hand between them, “fade.” He leans back to look Yuuri in the eye. “I’ve fallen for you, Yuuri Katsuki. I don’t want this to end here.”

Yuuri nods his head, lets a sad smile cross his lips. “Me neither,” he says, tightening his grip on Victor’s hand. “Then let’s agree, right here, right now. Skype calls once a week. Texting when we can.”

“Phone calls every night,” Victor chimes in. “Visits when we’re free.” He flashes a tiny grin. “Deal?”

Yuuri just leans in and leaves a featherlight kiss on Victor’s lips. “Deal.”

Victor feels a buzzing in his pocket and pulls out his phone. It’s a text from Mila.

_pilot’s here. ready to go?_

“I guess it’s time, huh?” Yuuri says quietly.

Victor nods. “I’m afraid so.” Reluctantly, he lets his hand fall from Yuuri’s and pushes up into a standing position. Yuuri follows close behind. “The others are waiting.”

Yuuri reaches up and brushes the tears from his eyes. “Okay,” he says with a watery smile. “Okay.”

Together they make their way back to his terminal. Georgi, Mila, and Yakov look on with sad eyes while Yuri curls in on himself and avoids eye contact, and all take their turns saying goodbye. Mila practically tackles Yuuri, muttering something about stowing him in her carry-on and taking him with them. Georgi shakes his hand firmly, a blunt farewell if Victor ever saw one. And Yakov pats him on the shoulder, muttering something in his ear that has Yuuri’s standing up straighter afterwards.

When it’s Yuri’s turn, he does something no one expects. He walks forward and cautiously wraps his arms around Yuuri, whispers a “thanks, asshole,” into his collarbone before taking a step backward and pretending like it never happened.

After everyone has bid Yuuri farewell, they make their way onto their plane to give Victor a last goodbye alone.

He turns towards Yuuri and pulls him into an embrace, arms tightening around him. “I’ll miss you,” he mutters into Yuuri’s hair.

Yuuri embraces him back, wraps his arms around his middle and holds on tight. “Me too. Text me when you land?”

Victor laughs under his breath. “It’s a nine hour flight back to Glacia. Sure you’ll be awake?”

“I think I can manage it,” Yuuri says.

They cling to each other for another few minutes, neither of them saying a word. He knows he has to pull away, that the flight needs to take off, but he can’t himself to let go, not when it means this will be over.

But it isn’t over, isn’t it? Yuuri is going to text him. They’re going to have long Skype sessions and send each other funny things they find on social media and laugh long into the night. They’ll plan trips and run to each other in the airport when they reunite. They’ll spend weekends in Glacia, cuddled up in Victor’s bed, and, if all works out, holidays in Hasetsu, skating at Ice Castle and visiting Yuuri’s family.

It isn’t a goodbye, he realizes in that moment. It’s a new beginning.

“I know it’s your private plane, but they’re gonna leave without you,” Yuuri says with a laugh, pulling away from Victor’s embrace. He leans up and kisses him again, quick and bashful, before taking a few steps back.

Victor blushes, then picks up his carry-on from where he left it. “Goodbye, Yuuri,” he says, voice cracking on the last word.

Yuuri blinks away the wetness in his eyes and waves. “Until we meet again?”

Victor nods. “Until we meet again.”

* * *

_Four Months Later_

Over the following few months, there are three things Victor learns about long distance relationships.

1\. Timezones are sent from hell itself. Being nine hours apart means lots of early morning phone calls, talking to a groggy Yuuri on the other end of the line, and late-night Skype sessions, where on more than one occasion Victor has fallen asleep. It’s terrible.

2\. Watching Yuuri but not being able to touch him is torture, full out. Really, how is he supposed to handle Yuuri giggling at one of his lame jokes if he can’t brush a hand over his arm, or pull him into his side? How can he comfort Yuuri on tough days when he can’t pet his hair and tell him everything is going to be all right? It’s downright unfair.

3\. Visits are almost impossible to plan. Victor can’t leave his country after being gone for a month, and Yuuri is tied to Ice Castle, especially now that Victor’s donation is being put to good use and the inside is getting a major overhaul. Neither of them can get away, which leaves them both bemoaning the distance daily.

It’s the hardest thing he’s ever done... but it’s worth it every time he gets to hear about Yuuri’s day, listen to him talk about Nishigori and Yuuko and the triplets. It’s worth it when he wakes up in the morning to a thread of ridiculous tabloid articles about their now-public relationship, each one funnier than the last. It’s worth it every time he makes Yuuri laugh, every time he gets to hear Yuuri’s sleepy voice, every time Yuuri calls him _Vitya_.

But even then, he’d trade it all if he could see Yuuri every day, hold him, touch him, kiss him.

Not being able to drives him up a wall, enough that everyone notices.

“Would you stop texting your boyfriend for five seconds and listen to me?” Yuri exclaims one day. They’re sitting out on the estate’s balcony, looking over the flower garden that lines the backyard. Victor is supposed to be listening to Yuri’s story about a cool new friend he met at the local rink (which he has been visiting every day since they returned from Hasetsu), but instead he keeps glancing down to his phone, eagerly awaiting a new text from Yuuri.

Victor averts his eyes and shoves his phone into his pocket. “I’m sorry, Yura,” he says, folding his hands in front of him. “Tell me more about this Otabek.”

Yuri blows the hair from his eyes and quirks his lips up into a half-grin. “He’s like, so cool! He moved here from Kazakhstan and has a motorcyle and—”

“—you can’t stop telling us about him?” Mila says as she wanders into the scene, hands resting on her hips. “Aw, how adorable. Yuri finally has a friend.”

“Shut up, Mila!” Yuri growls, but there’s no bite to it. He’s too happy, stealing looks at his own phone now to type out a text at the speed of light.

Mila tosses him an amused look before turning serious again. “I actually need you to come with me, Victor,” she says. “It’s important.”

Victor gets up from his chair and furrows his brow at her. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Just come with me,” she says, then takes off without checking to see if he’s following.

He quickly chases after MIla, following the flash of her red hair through the main hallway and through the study. She turns at the kitchen, then makes her way through another maze of hallways until she comes to a stop at their conference room.

“Why am I here? There’s no meeting today,” Victor asks.

Mila just gestures to the door. “Why don’t you go inside and find out?,” she says in a teasing voice, then turns on her heel and leaves without another word.

Victor curls his fingers around the handle, but he doesn’t pull. Mila has been known for being mischievous. With the anniversary of his crownship coming up, he wouldn’t put it past her to pull something over on him.

But when he opens the door and carefully steps inside, nothing is out of the ordinary. The large, oak table that takes up half of the room is in-tact, all of the bookshelves are in perfect order.

Except...the chair where he usually sits is turned around, leather back facing him.

“...Hello?” Victor says. “Who’s there?”

“Have you ever tried taking Luna Airlines?” a familiar voice says. “You can carve four hours off of your flight time.”

Victor’s gut jumps into his throat. No, it can’t be.

But it is.

Yuuri turns around in the chair, smirk on his face. Nex to him is a bag big enough to fit Makkachin, and it fills Victor with more hope that he’s felt in months. He wouldn’t have a bag that big if he wasn’t planning on staying for awhile.

“What are you doing here?” Victor exclaims as he runs forward.

Yuuri gets up from his place to meet Victor halfway. He falls into his arms and says, “Nishigori and Yuuko were sick of me talking about you all the time, so they, uh, helped me get my visa. Said that I needed a vacation.” He rubs the back of his neck and lets out a nervous laugh. “I have two months off so...can I stay here?”

Victor’s eyes widen at that. “Two months?”

“I... er... yes? If you’ll have me, that is.”

If he’ll have Yuuri? What kind of inane question is that? That’s more than he ever could’ve asked for. Two months of Yuuri by his side. Two months of touching him, holding him close, kissing him. Two months of taking him out onto the balcony to dance under the stars. Two month of adventures and growing closer and maybe, _maybe_ , falling faster than ever before.

Victor tilts Yuuri’s chin up and leaves a blazing kiss on his lips. “I wouldn’t want anything else.”

He reaches over and grabs Yuuri’s hand in his, leading him to the expansive windows that overlook the rolling, grassy hills in the distance, the stone-cobbled courtyard, the small lake. He pulls Yuuri into his side and tucks him under his chin, then says, “You know, I had this really great tour guide in Japan.”

Yuuri glances up at him and smirks. “Oh, really?”

“Mm-hmm,” Victor hums. “He took me to this lantern festival, let me help out at his rink, and was the best kisser too.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Yuuri mutters as he knocks his hip into Victor’s. “What’s your point?”

“My point is that I learned a lot from you in Japan. Now I wish to do the same, show you around Glacia. I want you to fall for my country as much as I fell for yours. And, well,” he pauses, “my people are quite curious about the man who stole my heart. If you want to, that is,” he tacks on at the end.

Yuuri tightens his grip on Victor’s hand and glances up at him. “When do we begin?”

Victor just laughs and tugs him towards the door. “We already have.”


End file.
